


12 Attempts to Write Porn, Aided Somewhat Randomly by Pandora Radio

by Ntjnke



Category: The Colbert Report, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ntjnke/pseuds/Ntjnke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always been terrified of writing PORN.  So, I tried it.  I don't think I quite made it, but the results are sorta interesting I think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	12 Attempts to Write Porn, Aided Somewhat Randomly by Pandora Radio

**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

 

**12 Attempts to Write Porn, Aided Somewhat Randomly by Pandora Radio**

 

 **One**  
Broken dishes were strewn everywhere. From the coffee table to the hallway. A broken pitcher that might have held lemonade sat despondent on its side, its handle cracked and remnants of its former beauty strewn between the counter and the polished wood floor beneath.

Perhaps they'd gotten a little carried away.

Tightening the towel around his waist, Stephen stared at the wreckage they had made of Jon's apartment. Pizza was smeared across the living room carpet, and a mysteriously shiny slick of liquid covered all three sofa cushions.

As he moved forward, compelled by an ingrained need to _attempt_ to clean the mess, his foot squelched into something wet. The gelatinous substance squished between his toes and he shuddered when he realized that not only was the goo wet, but he couldn't immediately identify it.

"Oh my god." Directly behind his shoulder, Jon was frozen, his towel still hanging on his head from his attempt to dry it. "What did we—how could we have…"

Not quite understanding the touch of amazement in his voice, Stephen turned to look at Jon, and when he saw his gaze directed upward, Stephen let his eyes follow Jon's towards the dining room ceiling.

Their dinner, all of it, was hanging from the stucco. Affixed, apparently, with cheap take-out chopsticks and what appeared to be metal tines of…

"Is that--?"

Jon nodded, awe evident in every movement.

"You, Stephen, are one hell of a fuck."

 **Two**  
Jon's hair was dark from sweat. His curls fell into his eyes, and his eyes, his beautiful blue-gray eyes, were cloudy and desperate.

Stephen had had him kneel in the center of the bed. His small body was gleaming, surrounded by an ocean of blue silk, and his hands were tied, suspended from the metal hook in the ceiling. At the brush of Stephen's toy, his neck arched back and his eyes closed. Another brush and he was crying, panting to catch his breath, and begging for anything his lover would deign to give him.

"Please, Stephen. Oh god, Stephen. Now. _Please._ "

Climbing onto the bed behind his lover, Stephen chuckled and slipped his hands around Jon's slender waist. Placing his hands firmly on Jon's hips, he pulled him down on his erection and held him there securely while Jon twisted and cried out.

"Shhh, Jon. Shh."

 **Three**  
"I don't care what you're _supposed_ to do! I don’t care what you promised her!" Pulling at his tie, he ignored the scratches his own fingers left on the skin of neck. When Jon tried to move toward him, he backed away. His eyes were filling with tears. His hands were starting to shake. Goddamn him.

"Did you tell her you love me?" Pointing a trembling finger at his lover, Stephen let the words continue to escape from his mouth. "Did you tell her I'm the one who keeps you happy?" Hysterical laughter started next, sounding cloudy and choked through the tears that were still coming.

Sinking to his knees, he ignored how Jon was petting softly his hair, silently begging for permission to come closer, to comfort him with a proper hug.

Instead, Stephen reached up with his right hand and slid it up Jon's left thigh. At the sound of the metal unclasping at his waist, Jon's hand stilled in his hair.

 **Four**  
His head sank forward at the sensation of finally, finally having Jon to himself again after so long.

Willing himself to stay right there, in the room and moment with Jon, Stephen braced his hands on either side of Jon's head and kept thrusting. He felt rather than saw Jon place his hands on the back of his neck. Stephen kissed one of the arms cradling his face. He closed his eyes at the sensation of Jon tenderly wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Adjusting his body, Stephen changed the angle of his entry into Jon and was rewarded with the beautiful strangled cry that he had been dreaming about. Despite the burn in his thighs, he placed his hands at the back of Jon's thighs, tilting him up just enough give him the leverage he needed. Then he proceeded to remind Jon of just how much he loved being back home, back with his Jon.

He was sure the neighbors could hear them.

He didn't really care.

 **Five**  
Jon chuckled as he fell back against the mattress. "Slow down, Stephen! We've got all weekend." Still laughing, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tilted his hips to push down his cargos. The wrinkled cream denim slid past his hips, over his luscious ass, and settled around his knees by the time Jon let himself lay back against the bed.

Stephen gurgled at the sight. Two months was too damn long. There were so many things he wanted to do. Jon, on this bed.

In the shower.

On the fucking kitchen counter.

Reaching for the hem of his own shirt, Stephen was brought to reality by Jon's tentative touch to his shoulder.

"That bad, hunh?"

Stephen just nodded and pounced.

 **Six**  
Stephen loved the look of concentration on his face. The way his hands clutched possessively at his thighs, and how Jon always stopped talking once the fucking started in earnest.

He didn't even noticed that today Stephen had left the bedroom door open.

Sliding down the bed, egging Jon on with every dip into his mouth, Stephen let his hands slip into the mess of black-grey curls.

"You like that, don't you?"

As well as he could, with his mouth and throat busy, Jon nodded. At Stephen's touch to his ear, he increased his efforts.

Blowjobs, Stephen had found, were something that Jon Stewart showed unending enthusiasm for. They were enough to distract him from work. They made him stop thinking clearly.

Stephen heard the click of heels in the apartment's parlor. To keep Jon from hearing, he placed both hands on his head and started thrusting into his mouth.

When she screamed, Stephen answered with one of his own.

His was pure satisfaction.

 **Seven**  
"Yes! Jon! Oh dear sweet Jesus, fuck me harder!"

"Stephen! Shh. You don’t have to be _quite_ so loud."

"I thought the point was for us to set them straight?"

"Not by you sounding like some twenty dollar whore."

"For you, fifteen."

"Just…just get up here. _No._ Dammit Stephen, on _top_ of the copy machine. One would think that you'd never fucked in an office before.

"I haven't . Apparently you have. Oh, Jon. Yes."

"That work for you?"

"Yes. Yes! So…so you were saying…fucked in an office?"

"Yes. To the left, baby. College. Admin..unh…assistant."

"Learned to make decent copies?"

"Un-huh. And that brunettes…brunettes are more fun than blondes."

"YES! JON! _No._ Shit Jon, I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

"No. I do that to myself all the time."

"Poor baby. Oh, Jon. If it makes you feel better, though, I think we were doing _awesome_ up until then."

 **Eight**  
The man's ass should be illegal.

It wasn't like he could dance. The man barely had any rhythm. But when the stereo was turned up loud enough, and Jon felt like there was no one around who would make _too_ much fun of him, he started this entrancing little sway of his hips.

It wasn't really a sway. More like a bounce. Or a _bump_.

It was fucking distracting. Every shift of his hips would stretch the fabric of his pants just a little tighter over his flesh. Every gyration tugged the waist of his cargoes just a tantalizing bit down. Of course, then the little tease would switch directions and Stephen would be tortured by incremental reveal of flesh on the other side.

Jon Stewart, Stephen was sure, should _not_ be allowed to dance.

 **Nine**  
Jon clutched Stephen's hands closer. He held them to his stomach like they were lifelines and clenched at them until the knuckles of his hands were white. So hard he was sure that it hurt.

But it helped. It felt better, and if he could just hold onto Stephen, then he wasn't losing everything after all.

Stephen's arms around him tightened, his light embrace converting into a heartfelt hug. It was loving and sincere, and Jon broke.

His sobs came, one after the other, as tortured cries that tore at his throat and shook his body. Each breath came slowly, raspy between screams, and the effort to fill his chest with air pushed him back into Stephen.

And Stephen held him through all of it. He just kissed his hair and ran his hands down his arms. He was constant and soothing, the sound of his kissing blending seamlessly with the sound of the raining pouring outside the window.

 **Ten**  
Stephen fervently kissed any inch of skin he could reach.

From the slice of skin he could see right above Jon's collar, up the tendons of his neck to the corner of his jaw. When he felt stubble against his lips, he moaned and grabbed the belt loops of Jon's pants to haul him closer. Using his right foot, he kicked the door closed and, never stopping his kisses, maneuvered the two of them back towards the bedroom.

With a delighted chuckle, Jon pushed softly against Stephen's belly.

 **Eleven**  
Stephen was absolutely sure this is not what she'd meant when she'd told him to "relax". With a chuckle that morphed into a groan, Stephen pulled harder on his erection and let himself pant as each pang in his stomach came harder, faster, and more brilliant than the one before it.

Jon's t-shirt smelled good. He'd started the afternoon with the damn thing wrapped around his dick, and now it was on the pillow next to his head.

He was going to hell.

Who cancels Sunday school to jerk off into a t-shirt?

 **Twelve**  
"We are so high."

"Yuh."

Setting his blunt on the table in front of them, Stephen moved his hand into Jon's lap and undid his fly. Next to him, Jon relaxed into the couch and let his knees fall open. Stephen heard him inhale again and then was surrounded by the hazy, pungent result of burnt weed.

"Jon, you smell like fruit loops." Hysterical giggling met his observation.

"Fruit loops are better than diamond rings."

"What?"

"Fruit loops stay with you forever. You can go buy more at the store, and when you eat them, you feel so good. You gonna do me, Stephen?"

"Yuh."

"Mmm. Your hair is shiny."

"Your dick is hard."

"Yeah. " Jon rested his hand on Stephen's bobbing head. "You know, when you're done down there, we really need to get something to eat."


End file.
